


Like the Sun

by Beastrage



Series: the red desert sky [3]
Category: Ancient Egyptian Religion
Genre: F/M, Imprisonment, Long-Term Relationship(s), War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-13
Updated: 2016-12-13
Packaged: 2018-09-08 09:46:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8839837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beastrage/pseuds/Beastrage
Summary: She tastes like the sun. And Set will always love her for that.





	

She tastes like the sun. 

The sun as it really is, burning and wildfire. Not the tame, yellow light of the stories, but the red predator far above. 

Her wings block out the light, wrapped around the two of them. 

In a brief moment of quiet, they share a quick kiss. All the time that can be spared, in this war. The blood coats their bare feet like it does the sandy battlefield.

When she pulls away, there is blood on her lips. Blood on his lips. 

Her wings flap, churning the air, wind pushing her upward. She flies toward the light, the sun. 

He watches her, savoring the sight of those strong wings fighting the sky, of the sunlight on her dark hair. Watches her until it is too bright to see her.

It is night and she comes into his tent like a ghost. 

Her face black with dried demon blood, her eyes are wide and her shoulders tight. Until she sees him, and then her body relaxes.

He sweeps her into his arms. “I missed you,” he whispers in her ear.

She pulls his face towards hers. Her grey eyes drink in every shadowed glimpse of him, while his red eyes devour her in return. “I missed you too,” she breathes, lightly pecking his lips. 

It is war, still. But tonight, just for tonight, they spend the night peacefully.

She fights in the sky, striking down unlucky foes like lightning. 

He fights on the earth, using his strength to push the tides of men back. 

They don’t fight together. There are others that watch their backs, fight by their side. Wings keep her to the skies and he doesn’t have any. So it is only logical that he fights against grounded enemies. 

Doesn’t mean he has to like it. He hates it, being so far from her. His throat catches every time he catches the slightest moment of her falling from the sky. But she doesn’t fall. She never does, tricking friend and foe alike in her daring feats. All think she will surely fall. But she never falls.

She laughs loud and clear, stabbing a winged demon who dared to attack her. She cuts off its wings and lets it fall, spirling, to the far away earth.

Oh, how I love her, he thinks, clawed hands playing in a screaming man’s guts.

She flies, birds around her like a storm.

A high laugh, the laugh that always makes him smile. A bristled head pushes at his head and he looks down at the culprit, a red-haired boar. He scratches the boar’s ears, a happy grunting that grows louder the harder he scratches. 

The birds that follow her are birds of all kinds. Herons, hawks, vultures, geese, they all love her, beaks pecking at her shoulders, her hair, as she gradually slows to a stop. Midair. 

A shadow falls over him and he glances up. For such a short woman, the vulture goddess casts quite a shadow.

“This is war. We do not have time for frivolities like this,”  Nekhbet scolds him. The wrinkled old vulture looks a lot like a prune, part of him thinks, while the rest of him still focuses on his love in the heavens above. 

He stands, looming over her. Nekhbet starts, even as she tries to hide her fear. She’s a vulture, after all, and vultures are not very brave.

“It is war,” he agrees, “But we have to remember what we’re fighting for.”

She bows her head, her black eyes full of doubt and confusion. “Of course, my lord.”

The elderly woman turns away, greasy wings shifting on her back. He calls after her. “Nekhbet.”

She half turns. “Yes, my lord?” Ah, there is fear in that voice. Almost panic. His temper is legendary after all. And the goddess is right to fear. 

He grabs her shoulder, claws digging in. “You are at my love’s back on the battlefield. Remember to stay there.”

“Of course!” He releases Nekhbet and she flees as if her wings are on fire.

His red eyes return to the sky. Watching her fly is one of the greatest pleasures he will ever know. And that is the truth.

She is part of him, like blood, even when they are apart. He feels her power, a hum in his body, as he duels the worst enemies he has ever faced.

He fights his brothers. His  _ former _ brothers, he should say. Osiris stabs at him with a sword at his gut while Horus sneaks up on him. Or attempts to sneak up on him. 

He whirls, double blades flashing. He laughs as he pushes the two back. “Really, Horus? Trying to use my own tricks on me. I taught you that one!”

Bronze blurs towards his face. He avoids the blow, backhanding Horus. His older brother goes flying into the wall, breaking it underneath him. More rubble falls on the fallen god from above. He winces sympathetically.

Ouch. That was going to bruise in the morning. 

And he would have thought more on that, if Osiris hadn’t chosen to attack right then. 

They cross sword blades, sparks flying up, they hit each other so hard. “Just like old times,  brother?”

Green eyes harden. “You gave that up when you went to Apophis for power.”

The blows increase in both speed and power, until he is hard-pressed to keep up.

“I had to, brother! Ra would have killed us all if I hadn’t! You know that!” 

He tries to look his brother in the eyes, but those green eyes keep sliding away from his scarlet. There is a strange emotion in them, one he can’t quite place. 

They swipe at each other, thin cuts that bleed more and more as the fight wears on. The blood drips on the stone floor and he makes his first mistake.

He slips, feet going out from underneath him.

Osiris is there in a instant, sword held at his neck. Finally, with his brother about to kill him, he understands what the unnamed, unfamiliar emotion in those eyes he has known for so long.

Guilt.

“What did they promise you?” he says slowly, dropping his sword and raising his hands carefully. A harsh laugh escapes him. “Riches, land, titles? Oh, I know! The kingship! You can be king if you just kill your br-”

“Stop!” Osiris yells, sword point quivering. “Ma’at says that you’re corrupted-”

He can’t help himself. He snorts at that. “Ma’at says  _ I’m  _ corrupted? Ma’at thinks dung beetles appear from nowhere. And that cows eat rainbows.”

“That you’re corrupted and there’s only one way to fix that,” Osiris continues, ignoring him.

“Look, we can talk about this another time. Let me u-”

A foot plants itself on his shoulder. “You’re not going anywhere, Set,” Horus says quietly, covered in reddish dust.

And the power, so familiar, so present, is gone. He can’t feel her.

She is still. Too still. Like a corpse. 

“What have you done, Isis!?” he screams. 

His eyes go over her body again and again. Her wings. Her beautiful, hawk wings are gone. Blood leaks out from her back onto the floor. His brothers hold him back, prevent him from touching her. Feeling for her pulse, if she has one.

“What have  _ I _ done? Set, you should be asking  _ yourself _ that,” Isis strides forward, blue eyes boldly looking into red. 

“You’ve killed your sister! You’ve killed Nephthys!”

“No, I haven’t.”

Almost responding to her name, she stirs. 

They let him go this time. Let him go to see what is left of his love. He reaches for her power with his own, red thorny tendrils. Only to withdraw them, to back away in horror.

“I can’t feel her. Why can’t I feel her?”

“I’ve protected her from your corruption.” Isis, always Isis. “Now it’s your turn.” 

He faces the three of them. Tall Osiris, eyes green like reeds, skin dark like the Nubians. Horus, stout and stubborn, clear falcon eyes. Isis, somewhere in between, dark haired and eyes as blue as Mother’s, with rain light wings tucked up behind her.

All so sure they’re right, so sure he’s tainted by his encounter with Apophis. An encounter he went through for them. 

And maybe they’re right. Maybe he is tainted. Tainted enough that his love is forever maimed from this war they waged.

He stands up, straightening his back. He turns to them, and says, red eyes blazing and burning (not with tears, with fire, but so close, so close), “Do it then.”

Every day feels like a thousand. 

When she comes, she is beautiful once more, no trace of the pitiful creature he left behind so long ago. She is smaller somehow.

Faintly, he realizes why. There are no huge wings shielding them from wind. There are no towering wingtips spread towards the sky, so proud and shadowing.

“Nephthys...”

She steps back as he steps toward her. “Don’t, Set. I’ve changed. You’ve changed.”

“Everything changes,” he says, pacing around her, watching her swing her eyes back to follow him. 

“Yes, but we’ve changed too much. This is no game.”

“Game?” he purrs, “Sweet Nephthys, this was  _ never _ a game.”

She shivers, rubbing her shoulders. “I shouldn’t have come.”

“No, stay!” Desperate, he rushes forward and meets her lips with his. 

She tastes like the sea. Where there was once heat, only chill awaits him. It is brief, sudden, and gone in an instance. He tastes salt, why is there salt...?

Gently, she pulls back, removing herself from him. 

“I told you,” she says quietly, grey eyes sad and full of hateful pity. “Everything’s changed.”

She walks away. And this time, he doesn’t chase after her. This time, he watches her leave. Alone in his domain of red sand.

Red like the sun.

He exhales, smoke coming out from his mouth. He takes another drag, long and harsh. The small cig glows in his hands like an ember.

A filthy human habit and Akhmen looks at him with disgust every time he indulges it, but he does it anyway. It’s not like it’ll kill him.

The girl wrinkles her nose. “Disgusting.”

Looking at her, it’s hard to believe she’s seventeen human years, even with the face of his wife. She seems...younger. Too young, even though he’s bedded females younger than that. 

He laughs. “Complain to the gods, Nephthys. Not to me.”

The girl flinches, the same way she always does when he calls her that name. “Aren’t you a god?” she asks, grey eyes curious. 

He laughs again. “Technically. But godhood doesn’t count here. It only counts out there.” He waves a hand at the horizon. 

She frowns, peering closely at that far-off horizon. 

Again, it strikes him. She’s just so  _ young _ . She’s not his lost love, his wife, no matter how much he pretends. Anymore than that snot-nosed redhead is a new version of Horus.

He saw how she looked at that boy. He knows what she thinks of him, but he just keeps trying, no matter how foolish, how useless. 

He’s just like the sun. Always coming up over the horizon, even when all that awaits are clouds. 

Set looks over his useless, sand-filled domain, full of slaves and demons, full of gods who are waiting to stab him in the back, full of days with no futures. 

Looks over it and laughs. 


End file.
